Sheets on Fire
by nicevenn
Summary: It's never been just the two of them before, but Harry does fine on his own. This fic can stand alone, but it is meant to be a sequel to Sweets on Fire.


**Sheets on Fire**

The windows were still boarded up. Three candles floating above the bed were the only source of light in the room. Draco hoped it was okay that he had brought them; the light cast by _Lumos_, their usual remedy for the darkness inside the Shrieking Shack, made his eyes hurt.

The blanket covering the four-poster bed was dusty and moth-eaten. He traced the edge of a hole in the material with his finger. One wave of his wand and the bedding could be like new. Potter probably wouldn't mind; he was becoming more lenient about such things. But there was something about the thought of being fucked in the filth of this place that still sent the blood rushing to Draco's groin.

Potter's provisions, a box of Honeydukes caramels and a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, were waiting for him on a small table on the other side of the room. Draco brought them every week, and in return he got tied up, thrashed around, and fucked senseless. And he loved every minute of it.

A floorboard creaked, and then Draco heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Single, unhurried footsteps.

Potter was alone. There would be no violence today – that was Weasley's speciality. And here Draco had got himself all randy in anticipation of it. He wondered if Potter's cruel gentleness alone would suffice.

"You brought candles." Potter's tone was both condescending and amused. His emerald eyes glowed in the flickering light, deceptively warm. "How romantic."

Draco kept silent. He had learned by now that, while he was here, his mouth was good only for sucking cock and begging to be fucked harder.

Potter sat down in a mended chair by the table and opened one of the boxes of sweets. He unwrapped a caramel and threw it into his mouth, then pulled a small metal flask out of his pocket and washed it down, leaving the new bottle of Firewhisky untouched. "You've been very good these last few weeks. I have a gift for you tonight. Consider it your reward."

"What is it?" Draco asked, thinking that the only reward he could possibly want would be for Potter to tear off that mask of cold detachment he had worn ever since the end of the war. The only time Potter ever showed any sign that warm blood still coursed through his veins was while rutting in between Draco's legs, seconds away from orgasm. Until then, his voice would remain low and devoid of emotion; his painful caresses slow and controlled; his thrusts measured and deliberate.

Potter pulled something out of his pocket. It was hidden in the shadows, so Draco couldn't make out what it was. Potter turned it over, tapped it with his wand, and sent it floating towards Draco.

"An hourglass?"

There was a brief silence, and although Draco couldn't make out Potter's expression, he knew Potter was smirking. "That isn't just any hourglass. iYou/i control it. The more impatient you are, the slower the sand will pour. When all of it is at the bottom, I'll let you come."

The hourglass hovered in midair above the bed, surrounded by the candles. A red serpent was wrapped around each glass end. Draco watched the swirling sand for a moment; it was flowing too slowly, and he wasn't even that aroused, yet.

"Aren't you going to say 'thank you?'"

"Thank you," Draco said, injecting as much sincerity into his words as he could muster. It was going to be a long, torturous evening.

A crinkling sound filled the otherwise silent room as Potter unwrapped another caramel. "Touch yourself," he said. "Through your trousers."

Draco took a deep breath, then brought his right hand to his crotch. He dragged a fingertip along his erection. A gasp escaped his lips, unbidden. Soon he forgot all about the hourglass hovering above him as he rubbed the length of his cock with all five fingers. The friction was becoming unbearable; it sent a pleasant tingle to his toes. He threw his head back and arched up into his hand.

Potter chuckled. "That's enough. Take off your clothes."

Reluctantly, Draco removed his hand from his cock and stood. He pulled off his jumper and let it drop to the floor. His shoes, socks, trousers and underpants joined it to form a pile. Then he stood, naked, under Potter's scrutiny.

Potter set his flask down and rose from the chair. He walked towards Draco until their faces were only centimetres apart. His lips pressed lightly against Draco's, a hot tongue slipping out from between them to tease his mouth open. Draco obliged, and his taste buds exploded with the combined taste of caramel and Firewhisky. It was a flavour he'd come to associate with sex and degradation. He moaned into Potter's mouth.

A hand, gentle but firm, pressed down on his shoulder. "Get on your knees."

Without a moment's hesitation, Draco slid to his knees. He rubbed his palm over the bulge in Harry's jeans, then laid a string of kisses along the length of his cock, until he got to the moist denim at the tip. Harry stiffened, but didn't reprimand Draco when he took the shaft between his teeth. His fingers tightened in Draco's hair. "Stop playing around. You know what to do."

Draco unzipped Potter's jeans and slipped his hand inside. Potter hadn't worn any underpants; his cock was bare and hot in Draco's hand. Its musky scent caused a stirring low in Draco's belly. He sucked the tip into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Potter exhaled sharply.

Soon, Draco fell into the familiar rhythm. It came naturally, like breathing. He used every trick he knew until Potter buried a second hand in his hair and took over. Then he relaxed his throat and let Potter thrust as hard and fast as he wanted. His own cock was aching and oozing precome; being used in such a fashion had always turned him on. He slid a hand in between his thighs and began to stroke his own cock.

"Stop that," Potter said.

Draco did. His fingertips dug hard into Potter's hips as Potter found his pleasure in Draco's mouth. Potter thrust all the way in when he came, pulling Draco's head forward until his nose was buried in the patch of coarse, dark hair above his cock, and held it in place until he was finished. Then he tucked himself back in and tapped the hourglass hovering above the bed. "I don't think the sand has moved at all."

Draco looked up. There was a bit more sand at the bottom of the hourglass now, but not much. He licked his lips and awaited further instructions.

"Get on the bed."

Draco obeyed the command and, lying on the bed, looked down the length of his torso and saw a wand pointed at his cock. "What are you—?"

"_Prohibeo_," Potter said before Draco could finish the question. A red light shot out of his wand and spiralled around Draco's cock, from base to tip, and Potter grinned. "Now you're ready."

Next thing Draco knew, his cock was engulfed by the heat and wetness of Potter's mouth. A frustrated whimper left Draco's lips; he had hoped Potter would accidentally take him too far and make him come before all the sand was in the bottom of the hourglass. But the spell would prevent that.

A blowjob from Potter was a rare treat, and it was all Draco could do to keep every muscle in his body from tightening as that expert tongue worked his cock. He stared at the torture instrument hovering above them, willed the sand floating in the top half to go down and the funnel to widen so that he would be allowed to come.

Potter was deepthroating him now. Draco could feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of Potter's throat every time the other boy's nose pressed against his blond pubes. He wished he could grab Potter's head and fuck his mouth at his own pace. There was nothing stopping him – Potter had forgotten to bind him. Yet somehow Draco knew that such an act of dominance wouldn't be allowed, so instead he clenched the dirty, old sheets to keep his hands busy.

The hourglass was too irritating to watch, and Potter too arousing, so he closed his eyes. As soon as his lids shut, a fingertip pressed between his lips.

"Open up."

Draco parted his lips and swirled his tongue around the digit, taking care to cover it with as much saliva as he could.

"You need to relax," Potter told him. "At this rate, I'm going to fuck you three times before you're allowed release. By then, I might be too worn out to give it to you."

The finger left Draco's mouth and, a few seconds later, its wet tip nudged his entrance. Draco held his breath as it pushed inside his arse.

"Still so fucking tight," said Potter. "Incredible, considering how well-used you are. Slut."

The words alone would have been enough to make Draco moan, but then Potter found his sweet spot and rubbed his finger over it back and forth. Draco's entire body went taut; even his toes curled.

"Shhh," Potter cooed, and then his lips closed around the tip of Draco's cock. Another finger joined the first. Together, they scissored Draco open. Potter had never prepared him so thoroughly before, and he was probably only doing it now to torture him to the furthest extent possible.

It was a challenge for Draco to keep his breath even and his muscles relaxed, but he managed – until he received his next order.

"Turn over."

It wasn't fair. Potter knew how much Draco loved to get fucked from behind while lying prone on the bed, or anywhere else, really. "No," he said, appalled at his sudden boldness. "Not unless you end the spell."

Potter shrugged. "Okay, I'll just be going, then…" He stood slid down from the bed and reached for his jeans.

"No!" Draco felt his cheeks flush at the outburst. "Please, don't go. I'll do as you ask."

Not waiting for Potter's response, he flipped over onto his belly, and waited. Potter climbed back onto the bed and straddled him from behind. Warm fingers spread Draco's arse cheeks, and then the moist head of Potter's cock pressed against his entrance, and pushed forwards.

What followed was fifteen or twenty minutes of pure torture. Potter fucked him slowly at first, his thrusts long and angled so that his cock rubbed against Draco's prostate on every stroke. Draco bit the dirty, musty-smelling pillow in frustration.

Then Potter moaned, and began to thrust harder. The more he lost control, the harder Draco's cock throbbed. It oozed precome on the blanket under his belly; the moisture, combined with the friction as his body moved, was enough to drive Draco insane. He could feel Potter's sack hitting his backside as the other boy rode him fast and hard.

This was how he loved Potter: rough, passionate, and most of all, _alive_. The aloof exterior was all the more arousing when Draco knew what lay slumbering beneath the surface.

Any other time, Draco would have been crying out for Potter to fuck him harder, but now he lay still and tried to relax. When the ache in his groin became so severe he thought he'd explode, he moaned softly and hoped the torture would end soon.

Finally, Potter grunted and stilled. Warmth filled Draco in soft pulses; his arse muscles clenched around Potter's retreating cock.

"Turn back around."

Again, Draco obeyed. But he refused to look at the hourglass. The sand inside it was waiting to taunt him.

Potter spread Draco's thighs and lay down in between them. His teeth tugged on Draco's earlobe, and his fingers pinched his nipples like steel clamps. "How would like it," he said, his breath hot against Draco's ear, "if I fucked you like this, lying on top of you? If I kissed you while pounding your tight arse? If I moaned and breathed against your neck while I came?"

A pathetic whimper left Draco's throat. "Stop teasing."

He felt Potter smile against his shoulder.

"I know it would drive you crazy." Potter nipped the delicate skin of Draco's neck. "It's what you've always wanted, isn't it? You allow yourself to be mistreated because that's what you think you deserve. But deep down inside, you want to be loved."

Draco swallowed. "Deep down inside, you're still capable of love."

A low chuckle tickled Draco's ear. "You think so?"

"Yes."

Potter stroked Draco's cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. He had made such gestures before, but they had always been cold and mocking. Now, Potter's face was thoughtful, his eyes dark. He leaned in and kissed Draco, without tongue. His hand slid down Draco's torso and closed around the base of his cock.

Draco arched into Potter's grip. "How much longer?" he asked, shutting his eyes tightly against the sight of the hourglass.

"That's up to you."

Potter began to stroke him slowly. His tongue left wet trails on Draco's neck and right shoulder. He was being unusually intimate. If this was a game, Draco thought, it was exceptionally cruel.

Potter's cock was beginning to swell again; Draco could feel it against his hip.

"Where's Weasley, anyway?"

Potter stopped kissing his neck. "I wanted you to myself tonight." His voice was lower than before. "Hope you don't miss him too much."

"You're doing fine on your own."

Potter dipped his tongue into the hollow of Draco's throat, then sucked the delicate skin into his mouth. He was fully erect again. "Want me to do what I said?"

Draco's answer was barely a whisper. "Yes."

Potter pressed Draco's left leg up and repositioned himself. Draco's passage was still slick with come, so his cock glided in smoothly.

Then Potter kissed him. It was the first time they'd ever kissed while fucking, and it made Draco's head spin. Potter's breath filled him, mingling with the blood that flowed in his veins. All Draco felt was cock and tongue and Potter's weight on top of him. The feeling was intoxicating. Even the ache his groin became more tolerable.

Slowly, almost shyly, Draco wrapped his arms around Potter and clung to his shirt. The sex was so unexpectedly raw, the sensations so new, that Draco forgot all about the hourglass until Potter looked down between their bodies and whispered, "_Finite Incantatem_" without the use of his wand.

Draco felt as if a ribbon tied too tightly around his cock had been cut. He pressed Potter down harder against him, even as the other boy's hand slid between their bodies to grasp Draco's cock. A few strokes later, he was coming harder than he ever had before. He bit into Potter's shoulder as his orgasm ripped through him. Potter gave a few more brutal thrusts, and then he too tensed up and came with a series of suppressed moans against Draco's ear.

Above them, the sand that remained in the upper half of the hourglass slid easily through the funnel. Draco watched it, his mind reeling, but said nothing.

"Was that what you wanted?" Potter asked.

"Was it real?"

When no answer came, Draco turned his head to the side and stared at the paper peeling off the opposite wall. Potter pulled out of him and reached for his jeans. Draco shivered from the loss of warmth.

"I won't be requiring a new bottle of Firewhisky next week," said Potter. "But do bring the sweets."

Draco snorted. "How about buying your own?"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Bits of his old self tended to resurface when he was hurt.

"What reason would I have to come here, then?"

The question hung in the air long after Potter disappeared into the darkness.


End file.
